Gillian's Boat
by Quite Silent
Summary: Gillian Foster didn't say a word to anyone, just left. Or so everyone in lightman's crew, except him, believes, but when a startling message is received at the Lightman Group will Cal be proved all too right? Callian. Per request: Rape Scene Advisory.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Fox and there respective producers, directors and creators.

Hesitation; she could read it over his features for less that what seemed like a millisecond. How? He was always so careful, always precise and studied; not one to reveal too much. Then she realized what was going on and backed away without the same hesitation she had seen in him.

"Cal, No." her eyes grew wide, her pupils ferociously dilated; Fear. She watched silently, her hands beginning to shake as he came closer, her shoulder blades raking suddenly against the wall of her office. She knew there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to stop him, and knew that he was reading and drinking in every ounce of her panic. Looking away she hoped desperately that someone would walk by, that Torres or Loker would suddenly need something from her.

Wincing she felt his arms block her on each side, his flat palms pressed into the wall to which she was pinned. Gently he leaned down, his nose nuzzling hard into her jaw line, his cool voice dancing up to her ears.

"Look at me Gillian." He cooed, nuzzling harder until she gasped at the pressure. She could feel his lips turn to a twisted smile against her neck as he let one hand, fingers still touching the hard wall, sweep down the side of her body and onto the tender flesh that sat just at the crook of her hip, allowing a finger to slip into the band of her skirt and under the underwear that lie beneath to stroke the smooth skin.

She slammed her eyes shut, lips pursed to keep herself from crying out against him. He must have noticed as abruptly the soft skin was pinched painfully between finger and thumb. She felt her own teeth sink into her lip as she bit back the sound that threatened to rise in her throat. This only served to anger him more and she felt his fingers on her jaw, pushing hard and forcing her to face him, her eyes still closed, his fingers still pinching the tender skin.

"I said Look at me." His voice growled, a harsh yell that stung her ears, but still her eyelids stayed down, determined. She could hear a growl start low in his throat, and felt his hand forcefully snake behind her and rip down the zipper that held the material around her fragile waist.

"Your going pay now, you know that?" he asked, completely rational, though his hands ripped frantically at the skirt and then her underwear. Quickly she had reached his at the tip of the small swatch of fabric, eyes still closed.

Her voice came out as barely a whisper. "If…If I look at you will you be quick?" she still dared not open her eyes.

"If you don't open them, I will open them for you." And with one swift motion the fabric was down to her knees, his hot hand pressed against her flat stomach as he readied himself.

"No please!" she cried out, "Cal Please!" dried flem stung in her throat as it crackled into her yell, this time she said his name out loud.

"Cal?!" his eyes she knew would be nearly beaming with anger. "Don't you dare think of him while I fuck you!" his voice boomed, echoing off of the walls and into the tiny space. With that she felt the sting of his hand meet her face, the slap sending bright lights into her shut eyelids. Quickly he forced her onto the ground then, the first thrust coming hard and without notice, her cries tearing into the room as she struggled, his weight on his hands, the appendages like anvils on her shoulders. She felt one hand glide to her breastbone and double the pressure there as his other went to her forehead, pulling her eyes open as he dove harshly into her again.

Abruptly she was in a musty, darkened room, her surroundings entirely concrete, save for a wooden door that sat a few feet away. Above her was not Lightman, but a gruff, unshaved man she had tried to block out, his voice suddenly different and her pain all too real.

"There we are Gillian." Her name was strained with pleasure as he continued thrusting, her cheeks damp with her tears. The renewed sight before her sent her body thrashing, everything in motion except for her chest, his hand still heavily planted between her breasts.

"Nope. If your gunna be fucked, its gunna be by me sweetheart, not him." His thrusts came harsher and faster as he raced to meet his climax. It was now her turn to scream into the room as her eyes caught sight of her bloody abdomen and the red tint that spread over his. _Oh God._

Finally for a second time she let her eyes close before she felt him become overwhelmed with pleasure, his muscles restricting over her as he came. She heard her voice come out in a garbled, helpless tone, no words forming as he pulled out of her, and stood up, taking the instant of her vulnerability to kick her hard in the side, sending the air flying from her lungs.

"Next time you go into that pretty little head of yours and pretend it's not me your with, you'll get worse." He smiled down at her gasping form, the used condom in his hands. He waited until she looked up, her blue eyes meeting slate grey,

"Wouldn't want you getting pregnant would we?" He promptly dropped the condom onto her bare neck and left, the hard wooden door slamming behind him. She hadn't the strength to move, had barely enough to remove the nauseating latex from her neck as she lay there, broken and shaking.

She imprinted heat of his hands radiated from her and left the rest of her body cold, the once warm blood streaking across her stomach hips and groin catching cold in the air. She knew that to think of Lightman while that man raped her was a form of repression, having seen it in her study of psychology, and knew that it would ultimately make things harder for her in the end; If there was an end. Before the thought could pass fully and take up root in her mind she was in tears, her entire body freezing and sore, eyes finally let to rest as she let the black take over.

**A/N: sorry it was so graphic! More chapters to come A.S.A.P! Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: These characters belong to fox, and there respective directors producers and creators. They are not mine.

Solid and sleek, it twirled from finger to finger; a nervous habit he had picked up, and despite himself, was having a hell of a time ridding of. Finally shoving the damned pen between his teeth he let his eyes trail once again to the stark white wall before him, now marred with her delicate, feminine features, and let his thoughts go. Gillian Foster, 37 years old, five foot five, 115lbs soaking wet, trained and skilled psychologist and his business partner. She had been missing nearly a month and a half, his office having come to the conclusion that she had finally decided to leave Alec, and had gone in the night without warning.

Removing the pen again he stood from his lax position, walking towards the wall and close to Gillian's huge, projected face. Pulling the pin from its cap he circled a tiny, nearly imperceptible line that ran across the left side of her face, then stood back from the wall and crossed his arms once more, staring at her sweet eyes; the smile that took up her features in this photo was barely visible as she channeled it through those blue orbs.

Slowly she made her way into his doorway, staring at her boss staring at her former other boss. Lifting a hand to knock his voice startled her as it rang out before she had even made a sound.

"It doesn't make since you know?" he turned on rocky feet, upper body swaying slightly as he met her flush. "No signs. This photo," he uncrossed his arms and pointed with the pen towards the face, "was taken of her two days before she left. No regret, no fear, no anger." He tilted his head in a way she was quickly becoming familiar to. "Just…happy." His eyebrows rose and dropped half heartedly, his voice strong with conviction, but softened in his concern. He had been in his office for what seemed like days, her eyes catching a glimpse of Gillian every time she passed the darkened room.

She let her jaw drop as a means of collecting her thoughts, "We looked into-"

He cut her off before she could finish rattling off the story that everyone had chocked up to explaining Gillian's disappearance.

"Yeah, I don't want to hear that 'she left Alec' crap." He turned away from her, arms again crossed, eyes moving about, studying. "She wouldn't have done that…" his voice became slower as he thought, "At least not without letting me know." He turned sharply back to her, clapping his hands together as if to squash a bug. "So? What'd you need Torres?"

"Uhm," she tried to suppress the look she wanted to give him, "Loker and I have a case?" she ended it with a question as he moved closer to her, his head tilting this way and that as he scanned her.

"You think I'm crazy." It was more a statement that a suggestion.

"No." she cleared her throat. "Just a little obsessive."

"I think he's lying." He said with a nod of approval.

"Who's lying?" she raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Alec. He and Gillian didn't fight; she didn't storm out of the house the day she went missing."

"You already called him in twice, Loker and I, neither of us saw anything in him." She shook her head, hands dropping to her sides in defeat.

"Only because you didn't _want_ to see anything!" he pointed at her accusingly and smiled coyly behind the offending appendage, quickly dropping it and walking to his desk to retrieve his coat from the back of his chair and walking through the door way past her.

"Wait!" she called after him, "Where are you going?"

"To the Opera." His voice boomed down the hall as he turned to face her, walking backwards.

"You're going to see Alec aren't you?"

"Ahh! That's why I picked you Torres! You're just so good at picking up on things" he winked and turned back around, disappearing behind a corner.

* * *

The drive to Gillian's apartment was excruciating, his mind on the defense as Torres' words danced through his calculated mind. _Obsessed._ The word stung like salt in a wound. Foster was important to him, and he would admit to having stray thoughts about her more than once a day, but obsessed? He let the tiniest of smiles creep over his lips as he thought about how often he did actually think of her. _You are crazy Cal._

The moment he pulled up he could hardly stifle the over all sense of obscurity. He had never traveled to the apartment without her, the few times having only been when her car had broken down and Alec needed his for more important _business. _He could have choked the bastard. He had this intelligent, albeit stubborn, frustrating, and simply gorgeous woman at his disposal and just ignored her.

With that thought he knocked a little too hard on the home's front door, his knuckles pinking with the force. When no one answered he knocked even harder, the pink becoming a sheer white as his skin stretched thin over the bones.

"Alec? Alec, I know you're home. Your damn car is in the park!" he yelled through the door, his pounding having subsided for only a moment.

Still no answer.

Brows furrowing he took a step back, knowing he would regret the action later, and kicked the door. With only one blow the hinges were barely moved. A second kick and they started to squeak. Finally with a third he heard the crunch of the lock breaking and subsequently opening the door a fraction of an inch.

"I'll let myself in then." He smiled for an even smaller fraction of a second and pushed the door in, the loud creak of the bent hinges singing into the room. The air inside was sweltering hot despite the early fall chill outside, his best guess being that Alec had left the heat on and the windows closed. Sniffing, his nostrils took in a sweetly sour reek; his nose guiding him to what he could only assume was the Foster's bedroom. As he reached the door his cell phone began to shriek loudly the screen lighting with the name Torres.

"Yeah?" his voice came out louder than he had expected, his fingertips reaching the handle of the door and urging it open.

"Alec's dead."

The stench over took him, the need to cough arising almost instantaneously as his eyes took in the slumping mass of flesh before him.

"Yeah, I know." He pulled the device from his ear, slamming it closed with an audible click. Lying before him was the lifeless, baking, form of what was once Alec Foster. He had been made to sit on the edge of the room's bed, his legs crossed politely, handless arms resting on his lap, body propped up by an old dresser and his head hyper extended backwards, exposing a swelled and unmoving Adam's apple.

"Damn."

**A/n: oh dear. Hope you enjoyed! More to come soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to fox, and there respective writers, producers, directors and creators.

Greedily he let his hardened eyes scan her, his look quickly softening as it drifted over her curled back, relishing in the smooth, milky skin that clung to her protruding spine just below the edge of her shirt. Even through the dirtied white fabric he could see the thin outline of each individual rib, her feeding patterns having been nearly cut off for the last four days. He needed to break her, because breaking her was shattering Cal Lightman. She really was a beautiful woman, her body and face pure femininity, and her scent. _Oh god, _he let his eyes roll back into his head at just the mere thought of it. Her skin exuded a glow, smelling lightly of vanilla and something so viscerally sweet that he was sure, had it been available in drug form, he would be addicted.

No wonder Calvin lusted after her so; she was an angel in the flesh. Sighing he let the image float through his mind for a moment longer, his hands gripping the sides of the frigid bucket, lips curling into a grin so hard his cheeks hurt. Stepping down into the room and closer to her sleeping for he readied the pale and quickly thrust it forward, sending it's chilly contents toppling over his prey.

She screamed into waking, heart thudding like a hammer trapped behind bone. Scrambling from the center of the room she tore viciously at the inescapable moisture that enveloped her, eyes scanning the room wildly. Standing menacingly above her, still some feet away, her captor's hands held onto the bucket, white knuckled as he laughed. Without thinking she found her voice, the delicate shape of her brows curling with anger, eyes wide and darkened.

"Who did this to you?" her voice was thick with the anger that lived on her features, her jaw jutting forwards, nostrils flared as the emotion raged inside her.

"Did your father abuse you?" she studied his face, "Abuse your mother?" still his face remained neutral, her eyes searching for which button to hit.

"A sibling?" in an instant his face was red, his expression mirroring her own, however it also flashed with disgust in a snarled lip, confusion in a knitted brow, shame in the way he looked away from her and guilt in the way his fist clenched; and something else. She had seen it few times and only in situations in which the outcome had been terrible and though she could not put a name to it, it was definitely there. The tiniest of smiles dared to crack the corner of her mouth, disappearing just as suddenly as it had appeared. _There's the button._

She had barely the time to blink before he was on her, fingers at her throat, hand muscles tensing hard around her neck. Gagging she grasped at his hands, his attack having brought her to her feet. Pushing harshly he slammed her backwards, her head meeting the hard wall behind them, sending a garbled cry from between her gapping lips. Grinning he did it again and again until her eyes rolled back violently and she slumped limply against him. Satisfied he let her tumble to the ground with a sickening thud, his hands reaching to the pack of smokes resting in the pocket of his jeans.

Lighting one he put his other hand to work, pushing and pulling until her body lay flat on the ground before him, his knee's locking her hips into place as he knelt down and straddled her soaking form. With an eerie air of contentment he drew a final puff from the rod of nicotine and removed it from between his lips, his other hand sliding up her stomach and pushing the saturated white fabric with it, the tip of the cigarette dangerously close to the flesh that lay beneath. Haltingly the skin of his lips curled into something sinisterly Cheshire as he forced the burning end downward, a sickening sizzle rising as the chard end burnt a perfect circle into the flesh just below her belly button.

Not so much as a twitch erupted in her as his stomach flipped and churned. This was not what he wanted. He wanted her to squirm and beg and scream until her voice gave out. Quickly he had the lighter out again and the tip of the smoldering drug was lit once more, his lungs sucking in nicotine, smoke and burnt flecks of Gillian Foster. The thought of practically breathing her in made him so hard he could have fucked her right there, but he couldn't, not now, not until she screamed for mercy.

Slowly he lowered the tiny branding iron for a second time, this time striking just above her belly button. This time her face visibly contorted. _Closer,_ The smirk grew and he lit up again, _hmmm fun_.

It took eight plunges with the faux cattle prod to get her awake, screaming, _begging_ for him to stop; eight beautiful, blistered holes, stemming in a straight line from the first, just under her belly button, to the last, just at the cusp of her long breastbone. Putting the shortened cigarette to his lips he sucked her in, his lungs full and tight with Cal's sweet Gillian. A wicked smile enveloped his face as he looked down at her shaking, bleeding body and the ache of his forgotten hard on reawakened suddenly.

Grabbing her shoulders, his delight only intensified as she jerked away from his touch a guttural sound ripping from her mouth as he tugged her upright, her face pressed to his clothed, excited groin.

"You like that sweetheart? Or should I call you love?" his words went through her like an electrical current and she cried out, tears dampening his jeans. Desperately she swiveled her head, trying to escape his grip and the nauseating pain that tore through the muscles of her abdomen. As he held her still she closed her eyes, imagining the smell of Cal's cologne, imagined his hands on her, not this monsters, taking away the pain, and soothing her.

Letting a hand slide over her pointed shoulder blade he roughly tried to feel every inch of her, his fingers finally digging in deep to her fresh wounds. Screaming she fell back, his hands having abandoned her, cal's going along with them.

"I think now is the perfect time to get in some photo's don't you think love?" he winked and stormed from the room, leaving behind only the crushed remnants of the cigarette he had marred her with.

* * *

Cal Lightman's fist was clenched so tightly he could have sworn the bones of his hand were going to spear straight through his skin. After finding Alec's body he had had to go through the tedious police reports and interviews, quickly tiring of the repeated questions and sick of the damned people who were issuing them to him. But now, now he wished he could have stayed at the scene longer, wished desperately that he hadn't had these fucking pictures and note shoved in his face.

When he had finally gotten back to the Lightman Group's building he had been greeted by a hiding-it-terribly, but terribly concerned Torres. She had explained to him how the package had arrived only a few minutes after he had left, and how upon opening it they had found the pictures of Dr. Foster and the note addressed to him sitting in the palms of what were clearly Alec's hands.

They had yet to have read the note when he got there, and had yet to have informed the police of the package's arrival. Sitting, chin in hand, jaw clenched, and fist balled against the desk now he stared at the unopened letter and the photos of Gillian. They had been numbered one through five, and thusly he had laid them out in that order. The first was a tear streaked Gillian; an intense close up, like the others, an emotion very poignantly displayed behind the fear and hallow look of her eyes. In the first she was smiling, all in black and white, a darkened bruise evident on the round of her right cheekbone. The second stole the breath from his lungs and his eyes dared scan it more than twice. The second photo depicted micro expressions of arousal, her dark pupils dilated, and her lips twisted suggestively, though subtly.

The third was contentment. Her eyes shone shiny and bright, though tears still left tracks on her cheeks, but he would read satisfaction in her muscle tension. The fourth was shame, her eyes no where near the camera's lens, her lip crushed between her teeth, and her browns furrowed upwards as opposed to the downward furrowing of confusion. And finally the last was rage; rage that he had never seen in Gillian Foster in his entire time knowing her. In this photo he believed the woman he was looking at to be completely capable of taking a life- something the Gillian he knew would never even consider.

He had taken the last into his shaky hand, staring at it for what seemed like forever, his eyes drifting only to stare at the sealed letter. Slowly the final picture fell like a feather to reach its sister's, his hand moving to the letter. With an echoing rip he was into it, the word's typed in an old English script.

_This is what you wanted isn't it? To have his dirty, drug addicted, undeserving hands away from her? Off of her smooth, alabaster, skin that you so long to feel in your own hands? See? I've done nothing for you but a simple favor. I have saved her from that bastard of a husband and have brought her into more deserving, loving arms. Something you could never do Calvin. And well, I suppose I wouldn't really call them loving, but deserving, they surely are. I deserve to do with her what I please, to fuck her like you wish you could and to beat her like you never could. And what brings me to such an honor? None other than the infamous, lie detecting Doctor himself, Cal Lightman! Bet they didn't teach you how to detect this in school did they? Oh well, we can't be prepared for everything can we? I certainly wasn't. Especially when he went to jail on my behalf- he took the blame for all those women when he knew it was me. Well now your tender, angelic, sweet, beautiful Gillian is going to be taking the blame for you- for letting him rot in that cell. Oh and these stunning photo's of your dear Gil, they could help you find her. But I'm not making promises. _

No signature, no name, no goodbye.

He hadn't realized that the paper was squeezed so tightly in his hand that he had nearly torn it in half, let alone smudged the print. Abruptly a knock sounded behind him, sending his voice booming out in reaction.

"What the fuck do you want Torres?!" he nearly screamed into the room, dropping the letter as he slammed the chair back behind him and stood in one quick, uncontrolled motion.

"Uhm, its Loker, and I just wanted to tell you we'll find her. She's a strong woman Dr. Lightman; she'll hold her own till we find her." Lightman had turned to face him, the anger dropping from his face as he took in the words. He did nothing but nod once, and sit back down, his coated back to the young intern. Looking down at the photos again he could imagine his partner negotiating with her captor.

"Fine, I'll create the expressions-"

* * *

"-if you give me something to eat." Her blood thudded hard in her ears as she made the request of him, her heart hoping it would work, her brain scolding her for even speaking back to the man. She watched as the curiosity bloomed over his face then anger as he realized she was reading him. He needed to stay in control, be more careful with what he let show on his features. As a means of keeping that control he took a step closer so that he was towering over her with the six inches that marked there height difference, placing a warm hand over the slowly drying white shirt that clung to her.

"Aww, you hungry?" he leaned down close to her face, her eyes wide and searching as she visibly tensed with the contact his hand made with her wounds from earlier, the blood soaking through her v-neck blouse and onto his palm. She looked him dead on and tried desperately to hold on to some cool demeanor.

"Yes. I am." She said stronger than she had anticipated, her chest warming with the pride she allowed herself for the stability of her voice. His eyes narrowed as he sensed uplift in her. Taking hold of her shoulders he pushed her back roughly, sending her tripping backwards and toppling towards the ground, a loud crunch sounding in her wrist as it met the ground, her hands having flown behind her to break her fall. She cried out and cuddled the broken limb to her chest, drawing her knees in almost instantaneously as he rushed towards her, spit flying onto her now tear soaked face as he screamed.

"Make the fucking expressions or you'll never eat a fucking thing again!"

**A/n: sorry! I'm evil! Hope you enjoyed none the less!**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to me or its characters, they belong to there respective writers, producers, creators and other similar owners.

With one swift motion he had her just under the jaw, his grip tight and strong enough to lift her off of the ground to which he at just thrown her. She could feel the swelling in the center of her face, the two black eyes that would bridge over her nose soon to come as she felt the fifth blow meet her left temple, the sixth hitting in midair as she stumbled sideways to the ground. She couldn't build the strength to curl into herself before he had her on her thin legs again, this time turning her to face the wall, her eyes imagining the blood splatter that would replace where her face would meet the wall as his hand gripped the sore muscles of her nape. With the force of a train she slammed head on into the cement wall, the blood stain nearly identical to that she had seen in her mind.

Quickly her knees gave out and on the slow way down to the ground his fist met her shoulder, forcing her decent into a high speed crash into the floor. As she lay motionless for seconds that seemed like minutes she watched through swollen eyes as he lent down over her, flat hand stretching up after an extended arm behind him and swinging down like the pendulum mechanism on a grandfather clock. The smack that sounded seemed to come years after the actual hit, the pain registering hard in her already defeated muscles, but she did not cry out, didn't flinch, barely breathed.

Picking her up he set her gingerly back down into a sitting position, crouching before her and gently manipulating the hair that had splayed across her sweat-soaked face away from her features. Slowly he let his fingers glide over her dried and chipping lips, down the ridged line of her starved jaw and back up to her deepening eye sockets.

"It's okay Gillian, just breathe, in out, sweetheart, in out." His voice cooed as though he was speaking to a child who had awoken from a nightmare. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten or had even used the restroom, a bucket not unlike that he used to wake her every morning sitting in the corner reeking of stale piss. Her swollen eyes drifted from the bucket to his orbs, her face neutral in its exhaustion. He let his hand slide down the side of her face, his words coming out slow and pointedly.

"This really isn't your fault Gillian, it's Cal's." he watched her eyes for a reaction. "It's his entire fault this is happening to you. He's the one who put my brother in jail; he did it even before you met him Gillian, but now, this? I had to do this love." He locked eyes on a tear that had wriggled its way from her eyelashes down onto her cheek.

"Oh, baby, don't cry." He pulled her into his arms with not so much as a flinch. She relaxed into his warmth, the most she had felt since being taken, and longingly wished for it to be Cal's arms that wrapped around her. The line between Cal and this man was beginning to blur in her mind, she could feel it soften and melt everyday, every time he put his hands on her. Slowly he leaned her back against the wall behind her, his touch gentle and caring. Standing he waited for her eyes to meet his but she wouldn't remove her gaze from the spot it held on the ground, her shoulders and head beginning to shake. An inward smile warmed his chest as he thought of just how broken he could make her.

* * *

"What are these emotions specific to Torres?" he stood in front of the five lined up, blown up photos of Gillian, the title of each displayed emotion written in a harsh, raspy scrawl below each photograph- Happiness, Lust, Contentment, Shame and Anger.

The young woman narrowed her eyes as she searched the photographs, mind ticking away, searching for possible connections.

"They are specific, in this order, to Serial Rapists." He tapped each enlarged photo as he went on, red pen in hand. Torres and Loker exchanged glances, each watching there boss's nervousness displayed all too evidently in his stride, features and tone of voice.

"See, Serial _Killers_ express the same five emotions, but in a specifically different order. They express shame, anger, then arousal, contentment and happiness. Serial rapists are a completely different breed. The placement of the arousal, happiness and rage is what is strictly indicative of rape." He stood back and looked at the photos, particularly that of rage, his mind still unable to wrap around the fact that Gillian was capable of displaying such a feeling so intensely. Shaking the appendage he tilted this way and that, studying the expression. Turning on his heels quickly he pointed to Loker,

"You, go through all of our case files, present and past, look specifically for rapists or rape victims that we have spoken with, especially those convicted because we caught them in a lie." He turned to Torres, her eyes wide as she stared past him at Gillian.

"What do you see?" his brow furrowed as he studied her features, his shoe squeaking as he took a step closer.

"There's something wrong" she squinted, head shaking lightly as she removed one crossed arm to point from one picture to the other, "In both happiness and shame she gives of micro expressions of confusion, and the rage, there's something off about the way her head is tilted."

He smiled at the young protégé, his hands clasped together as he let a moment of pride swell in his chest before his thoughts returned to Gillian's safety.

"You're right. She's telling me the captor knows me, and is out for revenge, but she isn't sure how or why." He nodded his head once, more to assure himself than Torres. The woman's eyes grew doe-like as she looked from her boss's face to the photos again.

Shaking her head she allowed for a tiny smile that cracked the corner of her mouth and lit in her eyes.

"God damn it Foster you're good." She said under her breath.

**A/N: sorry it's so short! Hope you all enjoyed!**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to me or its characters, they belong to there respective writers, producers, creators and other similar owners.

The pounding had started as a dull thud that grew and blossomed into an entire rhythm section that was out for his life. He had been looking for what seemed like years, but was merely three days through the Lightman Group's directory of case files, coming to realize that they had way more rape cases than should be allowed on one room let alone one state. They had child rapists, elderly rape victims, rapist couples, all of which were leading him down a long and winding road to nowhere.

Sighing he closed another folder and leaned back, slender hands crawling up to his temples to rub gingerly at the soft patches of skin. The fact that Lightman was going crazy didn't help either. Loker hadn't seen his boss for what was going on three days that had only served to complete the two and a half month's Dr. Foster had been missing. For the fifth time in the last month since the received the photos and Alec's hands, he had been ordered by Lightman, via Torres, to search the rape-case files.

Every single one. Thoroughly. Just like he had the other four times.

Softly a rattling started behind him at the door, his eyes moving lazily up the legs of said Torres, coming to rest at her chocolate brown eyes.

"He wants us."

"Already?" he a raised a brow and peaked up at the ceiling, "Not now God! I'm too busy going over graphic rape scenarios…" his eyes swung from the ceiling back to Torres. "again." He deadpanned.

Rolling her eyes she crossed, uncrossed, and re-crossed her arms, obviously uncomfortable.

"He got another package."

* * *

Her thigh ached, the old dusty T-shirt-turned-turnicate wasn't much of a help either. She couldn't remember why she needed the faux bandage, recalling nothing more than who she believed to be Cal storming into the room, demanding something, and then screaming so hard that she thought her chest would collapse. Now she had awoken, for the first time in what could have been years, without being drenched by her partner.

Rolling onto her side from the flat-backed position she had been in earlier her right thigh again screamed for her attention. Picking at the shirt sorely she eventually had it off, the fresh wound below beginning to itch. Just at the bend below her hip, at the top, center of her right thigh a wide band of skin was missing, the pinking Flesh beneath glowing a ferocious Coral-red. Slowly her eyes widened and a scream she didn't know she had in her tore from between her lips.

* * *

It was tiny and elegant, framed beautifully in a fragile glass-front frame. He held it as though it would break with the softest of touches, tuning it over gently, hands and eyes scanning it tenderly.

"Oh God."

"Is that-?" her eyes grew huge.

"Mmph." He nodded, lips tight.

Pinned like a delicate butterfly, wings outstretched in its expiration, a pin towering over its thin expanse was a sliver of tattooed skin, the stunning black outline of a sailboat inhabiting the small square. He had recognized it immediately.

The night Gillian had graduated with her PhD, three years after Cal had, he had taken her out and gotten her hopelessly drunk in celebration and in spite of the fact her parents had completely ignored the invitations to the ceremony. The tiny tattoo had resulted from that night.

In Gillian's state of well masked and drunken sadness, the emotion that had stood out to him most prominently, he managed to convince her to get it and so two and a half Vodkas, a taxi ride, and an hour later they had stumbled, arm in arm, out of Sid's Tattoo and Piercing.

Now he stared at the piece of skin, the piece of Gillian and recalled how two years ago, without warning or relevancy, she had told him how much she loved it and that every time she saw it, it reminded her of him, and how important he was to her. The news had delighted him to no end, and now it made his heart ache.

"It's Gillian's." he huffed under his breath, handing it to Loker.

"I didn't know Gillian had tattoos." The curly haired intern leaned towards the box in his hands.

"She doesn't. That was her only one…"

* * *

The wail she let out elicited foot falls that came to a halt just outside the door. Standing she wobbled but made it up the stairs and towards the door, her frail fists pounding into it.

"How dare you!" she screamed through the door, cheek flush to the hardened wood. "How dare you take that from me? You bastard!" she could feel moisture come between her hard cheek bone and the door, realization and a clear head coming back to her.

"How…" her voice trailed off as she sank to the ground, sore thigh beginning to ache again as warm, silken droplets of scarlet slid down her leg. She heard the door open but refused to remove the flat palms of her hands from her face, tears streaming down thin arms from between just as thing fingers.

"Luv-" his voice started and ripped into her, sending her flying to her feet, her hands shoving against his chest.

"Don't bullshit me! You aren't Cal! You are some sick fuck who is doing this to me!" she shoved harder, sending him tripping back up the first step. "You're trying to steal who I am and who I love!" she screamed into his face, her eyes wide with anger as she stepped closer, bare feet wriggling on the cold top step.

"Not anymore." Her voice had become shatteringly calm, jaw tight, eyes blazing like blue flames. Taking in the sight she watched his eyes flare just as heatedly, balance regained, towering over her. Bending back he pulled an arm behind him and up, fingers curling into a gross fist. Before he could send the missile of a hand forward she thrust her entire body weight into him, albeit the small amount she had left, sending him backwards and into what looked to be a kitchen. Fists trembling she took the opportunity of his surprise to strike, fingers tearing at anything they could get a hold of, and with one hard slap his body drifted into an eerie stillness.

Staring down at him she felt his breathing below her, her eyes scanning for a sign of consciousness, of anything her trained mind had been taught to look for. It was a face at ease, though only because of lack of consciousness. Quickly her eyes widened and her legs lifted her tiny form from him, feet slipping suddenly through something moist. Looking down she realized just how badly she had been bleeding, the now smeared glimmer of the red that had made its way down her leg and to the floor impeding her escape. Looking around she studied the room carefully, it wasn't a kitchen so much as it was a room with kitchen-like tools- a refrigerator and man-sized freezer, and several cutting utensils, a sleek card table set up in the middle of the room.

No phones, no windows, and a single door- massive lock hanging from it, unopened.

_Shit._

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed, and sorry it's so short!**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, infract they belong to fox and there respective directors, creators, writers and producers!

It thudded like lightning striking the ground, the tiny organ set into overdrive as it stole from her breath and sanity. Her fingers shook, her entire body forming into one twitching mass as she scrambled through drawers and cabinets, _Key, key, key_ running through her head like a bullet train. Rigidly they found drawer upon empty drawer, desperation becoming akin to her actions as she searched on, continually finding nothing. Like a trapped animal her eyes darted and danced, tiny blue butterflies flitting from her captor's body, to the table, to the refrigerator and back. Finally she spotted the edge of something hanging from the bottom of a cabinet, a swatch of something green that sat just above eye level. Gaping at it, she quickly climbed the bottom counter, standing wobbly atop the smooth surface to reach the swatch, the cabinet opening to reveal three neat piles of women's clothing, the green fabric a thin tank top set just beneath several pairs of underwear. Grasping the green shirt and a pair of underwear she hobbled off of the counter and onto the floor, slipping again in the trail of red she left behind. Inspecting the cloth she determined it to be reasonably clean, longing for some grasp of cleanliness she had been deprived.

And as a wounded animal would eye a predator she watched his body, eyes taking him in as she shakily bent and replaced her rotting pair with the new stark white underwear, the terror of not seeing him at all times sending her to a hesitant stop when it came to changing her shirt. Slowly she slid one sleeve down her arm, moving onto the second as she watched him stir. Panicked by his sudden movement she forgot about the shirt, adrenaline revving as she searched for something, anything, to protect herself with. As though on cue eyes caught a glint to her left as she opened the freezer to her right. Jumping she startled herself, turning quickly to catch sight of a thin, butterfly knife laid hastily on a counter she hadn't seen.

Now in a whole new flourish she moved about the room, reaching up towards a cabinet she had yet to have opened when she heard him stir. Jumping she was back on the balls of her feet, cursing herself for having not checked him before he awoke. Staring wide eyed in his direction she found him up and more than able, his eyes dazed at first then growing wide as realization came to him. He looked like some imagined monster, hunched over and fuming as he moved towards her at a dauntingly slow, but deliberate pace.

He easily outweighed her by fifty pounds if not more, and had a few inches on her, his shoulders broad and heavy set, hers slight and fragile. Taking slow steps closer he had her backed into the corner, arms shaking, and knife hidden behind her back, poised and ready.

* * *

Cal Lightman wanted nothing more in this instant than to smash his own head against the wall into which he was leaning. That and save Gillian, but the former would be much easier to achieve at the present moment. It had been too long; too long since she had gone missing, too long since he had heard her voice, since he had seen the remnants of a smile fading into those blue orbs of hers.

Sighing he let himself slide down the wall and sit, squatted at its base, cringing at the thought of never seeing that glint again and the knowledge that he probably never would. The idea sunk into his chest like an anvil set in quicksand and suddenly he could no longer weigh down on his feet, legs sliding out from under him as he plopped to the ground. Gillian, though she had always been a friend, never a lover, was to him the epitome of love. And now he was losing love; losing what little faith in people he had left and that tiny glimmer of innocence that laid down somewhere in him when he had met her. A deep growl erupted in the base of his throat as he brought a stiff hand to a scruffy chin, letting the skilled fingers slide gently up towards his brow, shading hurt eyes that threatened him with the glassy sheen of tears.

Cal Lightman was no man to cry, but could still feel.

And what he felt for Gillian had come all too forward when she had gone missing, and now those feelings felt to him as though they were something he couldn't help but deal with. Hell, now as good a time as any, the idea of never seeing her again plastered against the walls of his mind like old show posters. What did he feel for her?

Again the urge to pound his skull into the wall settled over him like a light dust, fingertips suddenly cool in the room's air.

* * *

"You, are a fucking bitch, you know that?"

He moved lazily forward, hands rubbing his aching back and cheek, eyes holding her in a death grip. He scanned her form, up and down, up and down, her skin writhing beneath his gaze.

"Nice undies." He cracked a knowing smile, stepping even closer. "What you got behind you Gillian?" he was dauntingly closing the distance between them, nothing but the old steel chair separating them.

"Another shirt." She let slip, the need to cry overwhelming her in an instant as she slowly pulled one hand from behind her torn body, the one holding the green shirt.

"You were stealing it from me?" he looked at her hand then her face then her midriff "just like you stole those panties."

She stared at him wide eyed, nodding gently.

"Well that makes everything harder for me." He took a step closer, his hands grasping the steel chair, a screech sounding as he slid it from between them.

"See because everything else, that was all Cal's fault, but now that you've stolen from me, you can share some of the fault." Another step and he was mere inches away.

"Stay the hell away from me or I'll kill you." Her voice was shaky and she could feel the tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Oh really?" he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath, "With what?"

And she pounced.

The knife was to his throat, pressing gingerly into the stiffened cords that lay just beneath his tanned skin. His eyes widened and anger flashed over his features followed quickly by the tiniest hint of fear. She scanned his face and eyes, watching as the power shifted from him to her.

"Back the fuck off." Her eyes had gone cold, anger hardening her eyes and features, though her limbs continued to shake.

**A/n: SOOOOOOO sorry! I know it took forever and I understand if everyone lost interest! And sorry its so short! I just epic-failed for a while, but I hope you enjoyed and the next chapter will be up VERY SOON, almost immediately!**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Fox, The Lie to me producers and respective creators, directors, writers and other beneficial staff.

"Keys." Her voice surprised them both, the room having fallen silent an hour ago.

"You should know by now you're not getting them." He scoffed out the words as he lazily shifted to face her. He had long ago slid to the floor, his back against the door from which she had charged nearly two hours ago.

"Shut up." Finally some control. She still clutched the knife, though her hands had gone from white-knuckle to loose and tired. Letting her eyes flow around the room she couldn't keep the gorgeous blue orbs from the sleek door of the buzzing refrigerator.

"There's food in it." his voice sent her head whipping back towards her, a spell of sudden dizziness sending her upper body wobbling, and her stomach growling. Slowly she turned back, leaning towards the fridge. With a controlled movement she flicked the door open to be met with stocked rows of food and leftovers. Her stomach immediately threw a fit of gurgles and growls into the air.

"Go ahead." His voice was strong and calm, and bugged the hell out of her. Flying from her chair onto stock still locked legs she held the knife in his direction.

"I said shut the hell up." She took a step closer to him, empty hand still on the fridge door as he knees began to twitch.

"Alright, alright." His hands went into the air as a means of displaying surrender. Moving back hesitantly she reach into the chilly device, finding several packages of sandwich making foods, and an old Chinese carton of stale white rice. Opening a package of ham she sniffed it suspiciously, eyes locked on him.

Judging it to be fine, she quickly assembled a sandwich, dirty fingers rushing to get the food to her mouth. Rice and crumbs spilled over the bare table as suddenly lost interest in everything but the food.

"I wouldn't eat that fast…" she eyed him angrily, the knife turning over menacingly in her free hand. Immediately he shut his mouth as she unabashedly shoved food into her own. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she really shouldn't eat this fast, but she couldn't help herself; she hadn't eaten in so long.

In her urgency the knife had slowly been abandoned on the table she the sandwich disappeared and she reached again for the container of rice, tiny flecks of white falling to the hard surface. When the tub had come to her lips, her fingers sticky, she suddenly froze, a sickening rumble starting in the pit of her stomach. Jumping up as fast as her injured leg would allow, she bolted to the sink and hurled, the sandwich and tiny bit of rice coming back up.

"Told you…" she could hear the smile in his voice as she wiped her mouth with her naked arm. Turning back, her fingers curled tightly around the knife's handle once more, dry heaves racking her body as she sat back down.

Thirty minutes later and the tourniquet she had fashioned out of the green shirt had sent her leg numb, her fingertips and neck tingling. Her eyes and body were exhausted, her lids growing heavy, her head bobbing. To his advantage her captor had gone quiet, letting her slip into her own thoughts, hoping what was happening now would happen. Slowly he watched as for a final time her head drooped and stayed drooped, knowing her body and mind must be spent from the blood loss and fatigue. Standing up, he stared at her limp form, the knife clattering to the floor with a metallic clunk.

Reaching for it, he waited for her to twitch, to prepare to attack, but there was no movement, just steady breathing. Lightly tapping her frail shoulder he waited again for movement, but again nothing but breathing. Gently, he moved to wrap an arm around her, lifting her weightless form easily. Dumb bitch tried, but he wasn't done with her or Cal Lightman Yet.

**A/n: I am soooo sorry! I've been extremely busy at school- taking 20 credits this semester. I hope you enjoyed and I hope to upload another chapter soon ******


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